Boat In A Bottle
by Lady Karinsky
Summary: Building a boat in a bottle is a labor of love. It's messy, and it takes time, patience, and a true commitment to the outcome. It's a metaphor, y'all.


The loft was quiet when Winston got home. Making his way towards the couch, he was not surprised to find the place empty. Jess wasn't due back from school yet, while Coach and Schmidt had said something about going for a run today. And Nick … well, Nick was spending most days in his room. He had been sleeping on the couch since the breakup, but once Jess left for the day, he'd retreat there. Winston mostly tried to stay out of the way while he waited for a breakdown from Nick that never came, and this actually worried him more than if it had. He made his way to Nick's door, and knocked lightly. "Nick?" He got no answer, but could hear small rustling noises coming from the other side of the door.

"Nick, hey I'm coming in." Winston slowly pushed the door open and found himself staring at Nicks back. He was hunched over his desk, not really moving too much. Winston stepped closer. "Hey, man, I just wanted to -"

"Shh, I'm almost done." Nick said in a hushed tone. Moving his hands slowly away from the object he held, he let out the breath he'd been holding. He lifted the bottle up to the light, turning it to the side to see his handiwork.

"Is that a - what is that?" Winston asked.

"It's a ship in a bottle, dummy, what does it look like?" Nick stated.

Winston looked at the glass bottle in Nicks hand. The object inside looked less like a ship and more like a miss-shapen mass of toothpicks held loosely together with clumps of glue. "That is definitely not a ship. That could be any number of things, but a ship is not one of them."

"What are you talking about? Look, there's the sail.." he said, pointing to it.

"That's masking tape, man."

"No, it _was_. Now it's in the bottle, so it's a sail. And look, there's the wheel, and the booby thing.."

"The what?" Winston exclaimed.

"The booby thing, you know that bobs in the water?"

"OK, first of all it's a buoy. Second of all, it's not actually part of the ship, which that is not by the way, it is a separate entity. That is, at best, a sharknado-hurricane-ravaged fishing boat."

"What are you, the coast guard?" Nick yelled at him.

Winston shook his head. "Come on man, you need to get out of here."

"No, I'm fine," he argued. "I like it here, it's safe, I got my boats..."

"Boats?" Winston inquired. Looking around, he now noticed there were at least ten other glass monstrosities placed throughout the room. "Yeah, this is not good." he said quietly. "Hey, come on, let's get out of here, go to the bar."

"No, she's at the bar." Nick muttered.

"Who?" Winston asked, realizing the answer when Nick looked up. "Oh. Look, I know it's been rough, but you knew it would be. Come on, things will get back to normal soon. You both chose this."

Nick let out a sigh. "I know, man! I just … I didn't think it would be this hard, you know? I can't live like this, Winston! I can't see her everyday and not.. I just want to stay here, with my boats."

"I thought they were ships?" Winston said.

"Whatever, man! The point is, in here, I'm not thinking about.. things."

"I don't get it." Winston said, shaking his head. "You guys were doing so great. What happened?" When Jess and Nick told the loft mates they had broken up, the reason was left unclear. Winston had assumed it was just a matter of the relationship fizzing out.

"Turns out we have different futures in mind. She's got some fantasy house by a lake with a unicorn out back or something." Nick said, tapping the sides of the bottle.

"And you?" Winston asked, sitting on the corner of the bed.

Nick thought about it. "I don't know. I said I wanted to live on Mars."

"What? Mars? Nick, what the hell's the matter with you?" Winston brought his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes. He'd known Nick to say some pretty stupid things, but this was a new kind of stupid.

"I don't know, Winston! She caught me off guard, talking about our future kid, and I panicked! It's probably for the best, in the end, anyway. I can't be the guy she wants, that future... it's not in the cards for me."

Winston considered this for a moment, then hit Nick in the shin. "Ow, man!"

"You are an idiot!" Winston yelled.

"I'm an idiot? You're an idiot!" Nick hollered back.

"You don't get it! The life she wants, that future – Nick, you are that guy. I grew up with that guy. Responsible, level-headed Nick. TCB Nick Miller."

"TCB?" Nick asked.

"Taking Care of Business – look, you can fix this."

Nick shook his head. "I don't know – she seemed to want it this way."

Winston pointed his thumb towards the door. "If you came out of this hole more often, you'd see that she's as miserable as you are. You know she made another portrait? Of Ferguson. Yeah, she used his _shed fur._"

Nick frowned. "Well, what am I supposed to do? She wants plans, I can't give her that!"

Winston sighed and stood up. "I don't know, but figure it out, and soon. I saw her eyeballing Schmidt's hairbrush. I'm scared, man." Winston slapped Nick on the should and left his room, closing the door behind him.

Nick leaned back in the chair and brought his attention back to the bottle. He thought back to the ridiculous argument that got him here in the first place, recalling floating the idea about being a trucker. It was complete nonsense, he knew that. He just felt like he had to say something, anything to make it seem like he had given the future some thought. Truth was he had thought more about their future before they got together than after they did. And then here she was, suddenly saying all these things, sharing these images of a life together built into some idealistic fantasy that was so fucking scary. In his mind, their future wasn't so perfect and put together – it was a series of small moments that led to bigger ones, carving out a life that was messy but uniquely theirs. But that wasn't what she wanted.

His eyes studied the tangled mess of wood under glass. His thoughts were slowly replaced by seething anger the sting of tears, which he fought. Rising from his seat, he threw the bottle at the floor, shattering the glass and sending a thousand pieces skittering across the surface. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes and chin. Dropping his hands to his hips, he shuffled slowly towards the now released boat, which had slid until it hit the box in his closet. Bending down, he picked it up, looked it over, and tossed it in the wastebasket. As he began to stand back up, he glanced at the still unpaid bills in his box. He picked up a small stack, rifling through them. Some still had post it's with Jess's perfectly neat handwriting, marking their status. Tossing them back in the box, Nick sighed. "Time to man up, Miller."

* * *

Jess pulled the clip from her hair and let the soft curls fall haphazardly. She fell grumpily on the bed, not really caring about removing her makeup. That would require a trip to the bathroom, which meant a chance of running into _him_. They promised it wouldn't be awkward, but as the days wore on, she found it increasingly weird not to kiss him good morning, not to feel his hand on the small of her back leading her from their room. And so they pretty much became passing ships in the night, and after the loft mates were informed of the happening, he had moved out to the couch until a better solution came up. She hadn't seen him today, though. When she came home from school, he was locked in their (his? her?) room, so she went to the bar to hang out with Cece. He was gone by the time she returned.

Turning her face to the door, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, balling it up against her mouth. It still smelled like him. She began to feel the familiar tears swelling in her eyes. Not a night had passed that she didn't cry herself to sleep. She replayed that day over and over again in her head, wondering if maybe she hadn't pushed, maybe if she hadn't brought it up at all... but it didn't matter. Because she always came back to the same ending. She knew his arguments were unrealistic, but if she was being honest with herself, hers were too. She knew life would throw curves at them, and that their future might be different from the one she pictured. But the one constant was that it was their future, that they were together. She didn't need Portland. She didn't need a horse. She needed Nick.

Wiping her fresh tears, she prepared herself for another restless night. Her eyes were barely closed when the ping of her phone brought them back open. Picking it up, she saw the name – _his name_ – and the one word message: _Roof_.

* * *

Nick stood, staring at the phone screen, took a deep breath and hit send. Looking up at the night sky, he imagined all the ways this could go spectacularly wrong. He paced back and forth, cursing himself for not grabbing his jacket, as it was getting colder by the minute.

_What if it was too late?_ he thought. _What if she didn't come? Why should she? _His self-doubt began to creep in, the courage he had summoned dissipating as minutes felt like hours. Shaking his head, he slapped his hands to his sides. Making his way towards the door, he muttered. "Forget it, this is -"

He stopped in his tracks when the roof door opened. The moonlight hit her face, bathing her features and casting a glimmer in her eyes. He watched her nervously as she closed the door behind her and approached him, arms crossed, stopping a few feet away.

"Jess." He said, somewhat stunned she was there. She'd come. She'd actually come, and now.. _OK_.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she beat him. "Nick, what's going on? Are you OK?" she asked, glancing around, half expecting .. geez, what _was_ she expecting? She didn't even know.

"I, uh, got you something." he said, turning his back to her and picking up the item behind him. Jess watched in confusion as Nick walked towards her and laid a cardboard box at her feet.

Jess stared at the box, and looked back at Nick. "A box? You brought me up here at 11 'o clock at night to give me a box? I mean, it's a nice box, really, um... square."

Nick grinned. "No, you nut, look closer."

Jess looked it over again, noticing nothing but the worn sides and creases, and looked back at him questioningly.

"It's _my_ box." he said.

Jess's eyes widened, looking back at the box. _Nick's_ box. But... "It's empty." she said. "Where's all the stuff, all the bills, the notices, the stuff you didn't want to deal with?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I dealt with it." Jess looked at him bewildered, all at once shocked and proud. He continued. "See, I've been wracking my brain, trying to figure out what I could have done, what I could do to make things work, and I realized there was _nothing_ I could do. Because the truth is that I don't know what I want. I don't have a future planned out for us. But I know that there is no future I can picture that you are not in."

Jess closed her eyes. "Nick -"

"I'm not done. What I'm sayin' Jess is – I'm game for whatever you have planned. And if what you need for that is a dependable, responsible guy, well then I'm gonna try my damnedest to be that guy. And this is the start, this box."

Nick watched her as a thousand questions seemed to play upon her eyes. "Are you sure that's what you want? I mean, a real future, with kids and a house? Not an imaginary one in space, or by a lake?" she asked, her lips pursing.

Nick eyed her for a moment, taking in the sight of her. He wasn't about to chicken out now. "Look in the box." he said.

Jess peered into the box and spied a small slip of paper tucked into the corner. Bending down, she picked it up and looked it over. It was a receipt. Looking over the numbers, her eyes fell on the item description. She snapped her head up and questioned Nick with wide eyes.

He held his hands up. "Now, don't get too freaked, it's just a lay-away receipt. I spent all my money on the bills, so it'll be a few months before I can put it on your finger. He paused, letting it sink in and he stepped closer. "What I want is you and me, forever. All in. Whaddya say?" He brought his hand to her cheek, cupping it as he brushed his thumb across the soft skin. "Marry me, Jess. We'll have whatever future you decide."

Jess leaned her face into the warm palm, drinking in the feeling of him that she had missed for too many nights. Her mind raced, her fears, wants, and needs all colliding. She looked into the familiar brown eyes, so warm and welcoming, almost pleading with her for an answer. Trying to turn her thoughts into words, she could only say one.

"Yes."


End file.
